


No More Workouts

by ArtHistory



Category: Disney - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Force-Feeding, Frottage, M/M, Out of Shape, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stuffing, Teasing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: This is pure indulgent porn where Tarzan fattens up Hercules and fucks him. Enjoy.
Relationships: Hercules/Li Shang (Disney), Hercules/Tarzan (Disney)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

It even  **tasted** fattening.

The hot, wet, airy belch that rumbled up from deep inside him lingered on the redheads tongue, a near-desperate pant following it, only for those sugar-stained, handsome lips to be once-again  **packed** with cake. The sheer force with which the handful of pure carbs, pure junk food with not a spec of nutritional value landed in his mouth, bulged out his perfect, god-like cheeks as his aching jaw chewed and swallowed - it was enough to send a rocket of hot pre-cum spurting onto his gut.

Fuck.

His  **gut** .

Hercules groaned, huffing out a low, deeply aroused and equally as deeply  **concerned** sound. He looked up at the photo of himself behind the headboard. A glamour shot. Him - Son of Zeus. Champion of the People. Sports Drink Brand Ambassador. How had it all gone so...wrong? Right? 

He hissed as Tarzan’s hands slid to his huge, bare ass, staining the mammoth, wobbling cheeks with bright pink frosting before roughly  **grabbing** a meaty handful of each. Herc gasped, arching his back obediently, mashing his gut - and that’s exactly what it was - into Tarzan’s tight, rock-hard abs. The trim man growled with approval, his upper-back pressed against the headboard, nimble legs slid beneath Hercules’ gargantuan figure, cock in perfect position to tease, glide between the cheeks of Herc’s piggish, overfed,  **fat** \- 

It had started on their first date. Herc had eagerly enjoyed showing his guns for the graceful, dark haired man, and somehow this had led to discussion of diet, protein, and Hercules huffing, puffing, and belchin his way through a massive chain of sausages in bed.

Tarzan’s warm hands gliding across his bloated abs, no interested whatsoever in the way the hero bounced his pecs, or flexed his biceps, Tarzan’s hands were busy gliding across the man’s Overfed, painfully bloated, comically stretched stomach.

The next morning he’d interrupted Hercules’ workout. Ripping down the man’s sweats, leaning a forearm into Herc’s wide back, and fucking him senseless against the mirror, free hand alternating between bouncing the meaty, mountainous spheres of Hercules’ muscle-pumped ass and rubbing his hand up and down the side of Herc’s still-bloated stomach, he’d quietly whispered - order

“No more workouts.”

Hercules had thought the man was joking, but from then on, any attempt at crunches, push ups, jogging was meant with either quick SLAP to Herc’s already juicy, thicc ass, or an impromptu force-feeding of sugar-laden carbs that left him so sluggish and bloated Hercules couldn’t even be bothered to lift a finger. This would be a problem - if it didn’t make Herc so horny he actually  **wanted** Tarzan to manhandle him and pack him so full of junk food it hurt.

And now?

Warm, rich lard flooded across Tarzan’s toned form, the evidence of weeks, months of constant, endless gorging. The fit, tight, toned hunk in that picture was nowhere to be found.

In his place?

Hercules looked to the mirror, swallowing hard at the Hercules that looked back.

His perfectly sculpted face was smeared with cake, icing, cheeks beet red from embarrassment and arousal, bulging with fullness and subtly rounded, tracing down to a plump, decadent second chin that gave him less the look of a proud hero, and more the look of an overfed, greedy hog. His elegant neck has thickened, and rivulets of heavy cream traced down it as Tarzan brought a quart of the fattening liquid to his mouth.

He gulped, obediently, feeling the cream fill up every inch of his groaning, churning gut.

“Fuck, w-wait I-” Hercules belched, before moaning, rocketing out another thick blast of pre-cum onto Tarzan’s abs as the man  **crammed** the last of the cake into his mouth.

Hercule’s padded, thickened hands - each digit a plump, fattened sausage - grabbed for his gut. He hefted it in his hands, groaning, gasping, looking with fear, shock,  **arousal** at his reflection in the mirror.

His pecs- No. His  **tits** bounced, doughy and soft, like two rich mounds of cream atop the wide, endless ocean of his belly. Herc threw his head back, another belch roaring out of him as Tarzan’s palm  **slapped** Hercules’ middle, pressing, massaging, releasing another litany of wet, deep, gluttonous burps.

“Fuck! Gods! I-I’m so-”  
“Big.” Tarzan finished, his hands gliding across Hercules’ gut, smearing cake, icing until he reached the naked hero’s overflowing love handles.

“Pig.” He added, hands snaking down to once again grab, roughly  **wobble** Hercules’ ass. 

What had once been two, perfect, proud spheres of muscle were now ripe, delicious, bulging mounds of  **lard** . Herc moaned, grabbing Tarzan by the back of the head and  **slamming** the man between his breasts. Tarzan growled, nipped, sucked at the sheer decadence of the hero’s chest as roughly, eagerly bucked his cock between Hercules’ cheeks.

“Greedy.” Tarzan purred, bringing his hand back to  **smack** Herc’s right cheek.

“ **Hungry** .” He ordered, Hercules’ whining, his head lolling back, grabbing at and licking the empty plate clean of its content, bucking his hips in time with Tarzan’s, blushing brighter as he realized all their hands were occupied, and what was stimulating his cock was nothing more than the slicked, bloated, fattened shelf of his underbelly.

He caught one more glance of himself in the mirror.

Thick, meaty cock eagerly fucking his own gut. Gazing at himself, the width of him, the way his entire body  **quaked** with each thrust, The way his tits and ass  **bounced** . The smears of cake, frosting, the still dripping rivers of cream flowing over his lips, chin, chest, gut. 

There was not a trace of a fit, trim hero.

His perfect six-pack.

HIs tight ass.

His broad, strong pecs.

Hercules panted, dropping the plate to grab, fondle, wobble his gut. Years, decades of hard work, training, dieting, completely undone in a matter of weeks.

He was-

“Fat. I’m so fucking fat.”

With one final surge of arousal, Tarzan took his hands back and  **clapped** them onto the greedy cheeks of his gluttonous pig’s ass.

Herc came, painting his greedy underbelly with his ecstasy, letting out what could only be described as a  **squeal** .

Tarzan followed soon after, slicking his lover’s cheeks before rolling the weak, fat hero off of him, landing atop him and finding, kissing Hercules’ perfect lips.

“Sleep now.” Tarzan ordered, kissing Herc’s cheek, giving his gut a long, slow rub.

Hercules sighed, boneless, feeling himself huff and puff from the minor exertion of simply  **gorging** himself. He let his eyes fall closed, before blearily opening them as he felt Tarzan rise.

“Wait...w...where are you going?”

The fit, naked man cocked his head, as if it was obvious.

“Get more cake.”


	2. Swift as...Less a River and More a Dam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hercules has a very, very fun time with Li Shang.
> 
> Pure kink, please enjoy without thinking too hard.

A deep, hot exhale of ungodly sweet breath.

The sound of it rumbled in the candle-lit, dark red bedroom, softened by the various curtains and strips of crimson velvet draped and tied around the bed and on the ceiling, giving the space an overall decadence that certainly matched with how Hercules felt. The former hero belched again, a moaning follow it soon after, both of Herc’s lightly tanned hands struggling their way from the silk sheets to the overfed, bulging glob of his gut. He did his best to massage the aching, tightly packed organ beneath the miles of warm lard that covered what once were a proud set of cut abs, fingers sinking into lard born of Tarzan’s endless forcing of grease, sugar, and fat down into his gullet - all the while using his perfect cock to make the Greek prince do nothing less than  **beg** to stuffed, packed, swollen -  **fattened** into something between a pet pig and sex toy. It had almost terrified him at first, which only made the prince’s impressive member jump to attention that much faster, but now it was taking more and more to get him full, get him hard, and that meant he was…

Hercules rubbed his aching jaw, having spent the last thirty minutes face down in a cake, his doublewide ass up and so perfectly manhandled while his lover’s bulging pecs pressed hot into Herc’s doughy, once-strong shoulders. It was hard to believe it was his jaw anymore, his cubby fingers sinking into a puddle of fat that had so readily buried the Greek god’s defined features, rounding out his cheeks swelling out his chin until it looked like the former was constantly packed with food, and the latter has a new best friend living below it, full time. 

The prince wiped the back of his wrist along his lips, cleaning away the remnants of pink frosting as he rocked his bloated form onto his side. Hercules moaned as his gut flooded out before him, meaty pecs - now soft, pillow tits, stacking atop one another before the gluttonous god found his way to all fours. He whimpered as the sensitive skin of his belly brushed the cool silk below him, arching his back to stretch it, his bare, mountainous ass bulging out behind to very teasingly.

“Getting yourself ready for another round?” A smooth voice purred from the bedroom door. 

Herc shivered, looking over his padded shoulder, before giving his wide, round ass a slow  _ roll _ .

“I look that tasty?” Herc teased, huffing and puffing just from the slow, deliberate struggle of rolling his overfed ass upright.

“Delicious.” The voice replied, broad shoulders and meaty pecs slowly moving into the candlelight before the handsome, almond face of Li Shang appeared by the bedside. His hot, calloused hands reached out to grab, squeeze,  **jiggle** all that decadent lard so duteously packed onto the hero’s once muscular frame. Shang’s left hand joined his right in worshipping each of those cheeks, mouth leaning low to nip, suck, and bite claiming marks across each cheek’s endless expanse. Shang straightened, his fingers drifting up, locking onto the hero’s budding love handles and tugging Herc back as if he weighed nothing at all. His aching cock slid beneath the redhead’s cheeks, causing Herc to see stars for a brief moment of wanton lust.

“You want me to fuck you, piggy?” Shang said, his voice low, leaning his tight, hard form across Hercules’ back, hands smoothing up Herc’s sides to tease, test the heft and give of the hero’s rolls.

Hercules panted, arching his back to needily rock into Shang’s cock.

Shang only grinned.

“I said,” Shang growled, one hand slipping to the bottle of lube resting nearby on the sheets, slicking up his cock, Herc’s much-readied hole. His free hand drifted down the hanging dome of the hero’s tightly packed gut, finding the man’s cavernous navel kissing the sheet and restinghis palm there.

“Do you want me to fuck you, piggy?” Shang growled, pressing his palm into the overpacked mound of cake and fat that was once the pride of Greece, forcing a deep, wet belch from the horny hog that was once its hero.

“Gods! Fuck! Y-Yes! Please fuck me!” Hercule begged, tasting the heat the overwhelming sweetness of all the calories slowly churning their way into fat inside his aching gut.

“Always, fat boy.” Shang smiled, hand finding his cock and quickly  **slamming** himself into Hercule’s greedy hole.

The hero keened, tossing his auburn locks back over his thick neck. Huffing, puffing, panting, begging as Shang quickly built a furious rhythm, pumping against him as Shang’s hands smacked bright red marks onto Hercule’s sides, his hanging gut, his overfed ass.

“Fat, greedy hog! Couldn’t say no to seconds, thirds! Letting your dick melt away your abs, your muscular ass! Gorged yourself into obesity just to get off, and now you’re too hungry, too lazy, too horny to be anything but a gluttonous fat ass!” Shang roared, bucking more wildly now, thumping into Hercule’s enormous back as he leaned, laid himself over the doughy expanse that was now Greece’s hero, feeling the prince’s body wobble and quake as with each thrust of Shang’s hips, feeling Hercule’s once-powerful biceps wobble under his own weight.

Herc was panting, mad with lust, nodding and gasping and desperately wishing someone was jamming more cake, more food, more fat into his round, wide, fat cheek-

It was this thought that sent a blast of ecstasy painting Hercule’s underbelly, the greedy bottom whining in arousal, crying out Shang’s name before the Asian hero finished not long after, pulling out so they could both collapse in a heap of sweat-drench skin atop Shang’s sheets.

Hercule’s purred as Shang’s lips found the back of his neck, the hero’s muscular body slotting, almost magnetized into Hercule’s back as the redhead rolled onto his side.

“Gods...that was...incredibly.” Shang said, hungrily biting into Herc’s earlobe as his hand reached out to rub the mountainous bulge of Herc’s gut.

“You’re telling me, did Tarzan tell you to buy a cake first?”

“Hmm? Yeah, he did. I guess he didn’t want you burning any calories, fat boy.” Shang breathed, grabbing another handful of Herc’s lard.

“I gotta say, I wanted to fuck you when you were fit, but now?” Shang exhaled, his cock twitching already against Herc’s broad back, “I gotta thank Tarzan again for just making you so...pillowy.”

Hercules smiled, sighed, brain still foggy from too much food and too much sex.

“Yeah, you’re the first to see me in...fuck...weeks.” He said, laying his hand over Shang’s where it rested on his gut.

Both men blinked as Hercule’s phone buzzed.

“Fuck, who…” Herc flushed, beet red.

“Hey!” The text read, from none other than Charming himself, “Been a while! We miss you! Brunch later??? No is not an option. <3” The prince had written, before sending two kissing faces and a wink.

“Fuck.” Herc breathed, flushing harder.

Shang only grinned, wide.

“Oh fuck, I want to hear  **everything** they say to you later, you fat boy.”


End file.
